


i never felt so good (i feel so soft)

by Uncontinuous (nights_fang)



Series: everything is changing but I think I love it now [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Vanya on her journey to becoming a Soft Supportive Hipster Music Teacher, because if any character screams accidentally adopting a ragtag bunch of teenagers in TUA it's Vanya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 11:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nights_fang/pseuds/Uncontinuous
Summary: Vanya lets herself be bullied by her students once, lets it snowball. And it may have been the best thing she’s done for herself.





	i never felt so good (i feel so soft)

**Author's Note:**

> Look I desperately needed the AU where twenty something Vanya blunders her way into accidentally becoming a Soft Supportive Hipster Music Teacher who accidentally adopts stray teenagers and no one was going to write it for me, so I had to do it for myself.

She’s not as young as most of Vanya’s students, but not the oldest either. Preteen, maybe eleven? Her name is Ellie, or at least that’s what she tells Vanya to call her.

Usually Vanya forgets the names of most students – most of whom stop coming once a month is up or move on to _better_ teachers. One blends into another in her daily haze of numbness and trying to get by. Has to refer to her schedule to figure out who’s she’s teaching at the moment. Ellie is only memorable because Vanya went to call her something else using her schedule as a guide, and Ellie corrected her halfway through with a sort of defeated sigh. A sigh that spoke volumes because it was the exact kind of sigh that meant she’d made this same correction a lot of times before – to Vanya and the world.

It reminded Vanya of before she had a name, and just being Number Seven. Vanya _is_ Number Seven, but still somehow _Vanya_ carries a less harsh connotation to her than Seven. Because _Seven_ is soft, weak, ordinary. Not good enough to be a part of the Umbrella Academy, not good enough for Reginald Hargreeves. Seven is petty and wrote a book trashing out all of her family. But Seven is also just _a part_ of what makes up Vanya, it’s not all _Vanya_ is. Or at least that’s what her therapist of those two weeks from long ago told her. It’s her only takeaway from the whole thing, everything else about it is a blur, but it’s the thought she’s clung too because if she loses that then she’s not sure what she’ll do. After all, it’s not like writing that damn book did anything for her.

The girl, Ellie, looks at her expectantly, dark eyes holding out so much hope. It’s not the first time one of her students has made a similar request of Vanya. And she should say “no”, because at the end of the day, it’s parents who pay Vanya’s fees not their kids, and almost all the parents who bring their kids to Vanya don’t want their kids learning pop song covers, they want serious classical prodigies. And those fees are how Vanya makes rent, at least until Vanya makes chair in the orchestra, now that the money from the book has dried up.

_She should say no._

There’s nothing to be gained from this, even if she does it to make up to Ellie. Vanya doesn’t even know the song Ellie is asking to be taught. And the time Vanya would have to spend figuring it out would take away time from other important things. Like taking on another student or practising.

_She should say no._

She says yes instead.

The smile she gets in return is so bright it dazzles her. Vanya isn’t used to people smiling at her like that.

 

* * *

 

Vanya remembers Ellie’s smile when she said yes. She remembers Ellie’s smile when the girl handed over the CD so that Vanya could listen to it. Vanya curses Ellie’s blinding smile and how gullible she was when she finds herself night after night trying to figure out how to translate Amy Winehouse’s Back to Black to the violin when she has zero mental and physical energy left from the day to do that.

The first time Vanya plays it during their class Ellie she starts cheering and clapping. She remembers Ellie’s eagerness and excitement pouring into her lessons, Ellie’s joy when she learned how to play her current favourite pop song. Ellie radiates it. It’s easy to get caught up in it. To get swayed by it.

Vanya tries to remember if she was ever this joyful when she learned how to play. If she was ever this joyful.

(Her answer though sad, is still not enough to eclipse the joy Ellie’s infecting her with.)

 

* * *

 

The memory of Ellie’ smile and her joy is what carries Vanya through some truly awful days.

And she remembers it through the sheer frustration when it all snowballs from there because Ellie _told_ another student who’s told another. And now, somehow it’s spread, and now a good chunk of Vanya’s students keep asking her to teach them their favourite songs. Not the younger ones because they listen. But the older ones? A lot of them are doubling down on it. They’re not being disobedient, they’re still learning, but they keep asking where they would’ve usually stopped past the first few “no”s. Like if they ask long enough, they’ll Rumour it into existence.

It reminds Vanya a little of when she’d ask her father to be a part of the Umbrella Academy, all that hope that maybe this time he’d say yes.

And maybe because Vanya herself has not learned to say “no” definitively. She’s twenty two, and she should’ve learned but she hasn’t.

So, battered down, she caves and says yes.

 

* * *

 

Vanessa is ridiculously cheerful, jokes that she has to be with how broad she is, and has to be forcefully brought back on topic once she starts about K-pop. She screeches so loudly when Vanya agrees that it gives Vanya a migraine.

Matthew is smarmy, oh god he’s so smarmy for a thirteen-year-old. Vanya is half sure he’s going to grow up to be a conman. Probably become one by fifteen. He flirts like he breathes, only grins when Vanya patiently tells him to knock it off. But he becomes so quiet and diligent when Vanya agrees to teach him how to play Sinatra. “It’s for my grandparents,” he tells her later, and it’s the first time he’s not smarmy and flirty but sounds like the kid he is, “I want to learn in time for their anniversary.”

Curtis is quiet and big. The big bit hits you first and it can be intimidating. And then the quiet overshadows the big bit because it’s so obvious he doesn’t want to be… He’s always hunched over, trying to make himself seem smaller. Almost reminds Vanya a little of herself. He loves violin and slam poetry and wants to compose his own work one day. Sometimes, on days when he’s feeling particularly brave, he’ll show Vanya some of his poetries. They’re good. But Vanya doesn’t know a thing about slam poetry, so she’s not sure how her opinion counts. He’s the hardest to work with because Vanya has never composed any of her own work, but at the same time, he’s the easiest because working through ideas with him is almost meditative.

Kiera’s only here because her parents force her to come. They want her to be a violinist, and, she informs Vanya in no uncertain terms, that she’s going to be a dancer. One of the _best_. And she only starts to come around on learning after she realises that Vanya could, theoretically if she tried, teach her how to play Beyoncé’s songs too, and then insists. She also insists that Vanya dance along with her, which _no_. (This “no” does not last either.)

Nisha’s like Kiera. She’s only here because her parents want her to be, like they want her to also learn Indian classical music and be a doctor, she informs Vanya with a note of constant mild irritation in her voice. She carries herself in a way that makes Vanya think of Five. And then surprises Vanya because she’s heavily into Metal music. How the hell is Vanya supposed to figure out metal?

Cassie is another Amy Winehouse fan so that’s a little less work for Vanya, thanks to the fact Vanya already bribes Ellie with Amy Winehouse. She’s shy like Curtis. Hates loud noises. Dresses in a way that reminds her of Mom sometimes, if a slightly more eclectic version of Mom. She sometimes gestures with her hands, and embarrassingly, it takes Vanya a while to figure out that she’s _signing_. She looks shocked at the idea Vanya knows some sign language, but Vanya’s _grown_ up at the Umbrella Academy. Klaus and Ben used to have moments when they were non-verbal and Diego had his stutter and when Five was still with them Vanya still remembers their debates on why they should all learn it, as it let them communicate in another way too. Dad never agreed to it. Dad never agreed to a lot of things. But it hadn’t stopped Five and her from learning some of the basics anyway, so that Five could prove his point. Not that it worked.

Jacob can rant at the drop of a hat about history, often Vanya has to tell him to stop when the load of information gets too overwhelming, and he wants her to teach him country songs…. and the list goes on.

Vanya is many things, of them _ordinary_ Seven is the first and biggest component. But she’s starting to think that maybe Dad was right about her being soft and weak too because of how easily she caves and says yes to the other kids too. Also, she’s too fucking overwhelmed for this, but here she is.

She says yes, yes, yes, cursing herself at night when she bandaids a new cut with raw ink-stained fingers going mad trying to figure out all these new songs and how to teach them. Tells herself that she’ll half ass it but can’t bring herself to do it.

She says yes to all those kids like she said yes for Ellie, cursing herself all the while.

Fucked, is what she is. At least that’s what she thinks Klaus would say. Maybe Five too.

 

* * *

 

In hindsight, it turns out to be the best decision she’s ever made in her twenty two years of being alive. She may finally understand why Klaus does drugs. (Okay well no.) Because the high she gets every time they leave her apartment with a smile is intoxicating.

 

* * *

 

She needs a better way to keep notes. That’s why she’s here.

She also needs to sleep more. And maybe for one of her auditions to click. But she really needs a better way to keep notes.

That’s what she tells herself as she piles in notebook after notebook into her shopping cart while giving the poor store clerk apologetic smiles. It is eleven fucking pm, and this poor kid clearly wants to just close the store and go home, but Vanya fucking needs notebooks. Because her apartment is a havoc of paper and she may have startled when Mr Puddles paid her an unexpected visit, and spilled coffee on a bunch of her notes.

She has more students now. Somehow, they’re multiplying. It’d taken Vanya some time to even realise it because she was busy being overwhelmed. Less students switching to a “better” tutor. Less students dropping violin. And still an influx of new students. But there’s also been a change in the type of students she gets. There are still the serious parents who bring their young kids and hope Vanya starts them on the road to becoming a prodigy – _as if_. But there are more older kids who are just forcing their parents to bring them to her or saving up on their own to come to her “just _because_ ” – actual words by the newest student, Ezekiel, who is one such case.

Why. And why choose _Vanya_ if they want to learn “just because”?

And each of her students are at different learning levels. They have different goals. They have different weaknesses that need to be worked on. They want to learn different songs – and the less Vanya thinks about that the better because god no, some of them have truly horrible taste. ( _Looking at you Jacob_.)

They have different needs – that’s the main thing.

And Vanya, stupid short-sighted Number Seven, had not thought to keep an organised system of keeping all of this in track. No, instead she just used loose papers, newspaper edges, paper napkins, receipts, scraps.

So here she is, at eleven something pm, furiously shovelling notebooks into her cart, while crossing names off her mental list. And then putting some back, because she knows some of her students, and they’re picky and they’ll make faces unless she gets them something gaudy and sparkly. (Well that’s just Kiera, but Kiera has the force of fifteen people. Ellie too, but she likes Vanya’s taste so Vanya’s safe there.)

Vanya has more students now, she thinks only a little hysterical, as she piles in some more notebooks because Curtis may want them.

 

* * *

 

“Do you have anything to eat?” Spencer asks her forty minutes into a lesson that’s mostly him struggling more than normal. It’s not the first time he’s asked her this question, but it has been a while since he did.

Vanya unfortunately _doesn’t_. She barely eats much herself, mostly due to being a picky eater – or as Dad would say, a bad habit from childhood. One of the first to come back once Vanya left home. She never learned to cook, and even if she did, she barely gets the time. So, she sticks to buying frozen meals at the grocery and stretches it out. And she planned to go shopping for food after she was done with Spencer’s class.

Spencer, who has already deflated having realised what her answer will be. Spencer who isn’t a twenty something with picky eating habits. But tall and gangly teenager, and still growing. And Vanya realises, he always looks a little too tired because he’s doing too many things. If she remembers correctly, (and she’s getting better at that off late, the remembering thing, doesn’t even need to refer to her notebooks) he plays soccer, tennis, and there are other extra academic classes. His parents belong to that set – the ones who push their kids into everything and expect near perfect results. It’s not the first time that Vanya wonders if he even gets enough sleep. He always dozes off sitting on her couch waiting for his parents to come pick him up. She’s started keeping blankets out for him. It’s not good for a kid his age. A lack of sleep isn’t good for anyone.

(Vanya knows that. She barely sleeps four hours on a good day. And the lack of sleep messes her up terribly.)

She looks at the clock. It’s now forty-five minutes of struggling, and she doubts he’ll miraculously learn anything in the fifteen minutes he has left.

“No, but want to go get something? I needed to go buy myself dinner anyway.”

Spencer brightens up.

 

* * *

 

After the next two sessions when Spencer asks again, and Vanya doesn’t have food, because she’s terrible at this whole being an adult business, and she has to deal with his sad puppy eyes.

The thing is at least Spencer has manners to _ask_. Some of Vanya’s other students don’t even bother. Ezekiel, Jasmine, and Matthew just help themselves to her fridge and cabinets and always, _always_ , give her looks when they come away with nothing. The others have, unfortunately, started taking their cues from them. Vanya feels powerless to stop them.

(Hindsight will tell Vanya that she doesn’t want to stop them.)

But the kicker is when some of them _bring her food_ all good natured and worried. Sonya’s earnest face will _haunt_ Vanya for the rest of her life, so will Nisha’s frown. And Vanya has to put her foot down. So, she just gives up, and starts stocking up her cabinets and fridge with basics and junk food, just to make them happy.

 

* * *

 

That was a wrong move. That was such a wrong move.

They took it as an _invitation_.

Because now Vanya has to deal with kids coming and going whenever they want too. She has to deal with them just using her kitchen like it’s theirs. She has to deal with walking into her apartment and finding one or the other of them already there. Using her couch, watching her TV, doing their homework, napping on a flat surface, going through the notebooks she has on them. She has to deal with them leaving her notes on her fridge telling her what she’s running low on. She has to deal with them eating her out of a home. She has to deal with them sometimes forgetting their laundry here.

Why are they in her home?

Why doesn’t she just throw them out?

 

* * *

 

“You know dear, you look better these days,” Mr Kowalski says as she picks up Mr Puddles from the home he’s made in Vanya’s laundry – well it’s _mostly_ her laundry. Ellie’s scarves, a set of leggings that are definitely Kiera’s – but they could also be Cassie’s, and shirts that belong to Matthew and Curtis (they went and ruined Curtis too) are also in there somewhere. Mr Puddles doesn’t stop purring for a second.

Vanya can only look at her confusedly for a long moment because on a good day, she’s sleeping four hours. Her mornings are filled with auditions, and her evenings are filled with a growing number of preteens and teenagers. Actually, no. Most of her days are now filled with a growing number of preteens and teenagers who waltz into her home like it’s their own. How does that mean better?

Mrs Kowalski pats her shoulder. Vanya thinks it’s meant to be well-meaning. And then she strolls off, leaving Vanya even more confused.

 

* * *

 

Ezekiel is homeless.

Ezekiel is fifteen and _homeless_ and he’s been _lying_ to her, and scrounging up money for her lessons. And the only decent food he eats is the junk in her kitchen and sometimes one or two of her microwaveable meals.

No.

Fuck no.

The rage that blinds her is so powerful, it could power a country. It’s new, this feeling. (It’s not.) Vanya’s so used to feeling numb. All her emotions are muted. (Well, at least most of the time.) But this rage takes her by surprise. She’s used to being angry and helpless for herself. She’s used to being angry at others. She’s not used to being angry _for_ someone.

But the thing is Vanya _is_ angry. Because Ezekiel is a good kid. And people might put an emphasis on good, but her mind zeroes down on _kid_. He’s fifteen. At fifteen Klaus was high and Diego and Ben were mopey and they’d _still_ laugh when the other farted like it was the funniest thing. _Fifteen_. He’s a fucking child.

She doesn’t remember how she breaks the window. She’s pretty sure she’s thrown something at it. She’s thrown a lot of things around.

Vanya doesn’t go to any auditions that day. Spends the whole day rage shopping food. Buys all the healthy food she can afford. Actually _calls_ up the house and deals with getting past Luther to ask Mom for easy and healthy and filling recipes. And when Ezekiel walks in she’s going to serve him food and tell him he won’t pay for her classes any more.

Instead, she serves him food, and tells him that he’s not paying for any classes any more and if he wants Vanya to continue teaching him, he’s going to come here twice a day and eat, and sleep on her couch until he gets a place.

(She’d force him to go to school too, but baby steps.)

He nods quietly, tells her the food’s great, finishes the plate Vanya got for herself too, and then instead of actually starting on the piece he’s supposed to be learning, decides to play _All Star_ instead.

The goddamned asshole.

 

* * *

 

Vanya is twenty four, and somewhere in between trying to scrape by when she makes third chair at the Icarus Orchestra.

Vanya is twenty four when Ellie and Kiera also give their first performances. Only one of those is violin, because Keira is Kiera, and she’ll dance even if she has to end the world to do it. Both are a resounding success.

Vanya sits front row at both, and cries at both, more than she cried on getting into the Icarus. Curtis awkwardly pats her shoulder.

* * *

 

 

“You know I’m not your kid, right V?” Ezekiel tells her the next evening. They’re in the kitchen making dinner while the rest of Vanya’s students wreak havoc in her living room. Well, _she’s_ making dinner, Ezekiel is digging into a bag of chips instead of helping her with the chicken like he’s supposed to be doing.

The words feel strange coming from Ezekiel. He’s already made himself at home in her apartment. Did it long before Vanya forced him into staying here than sleeping out on the streets. And he’s making a valiant effort to eat her out of her home more than the others do. Vanya looks up from where she’s chopping onions to give him a look.

“You’re _all_ my kids.” She says it in a tone that brooks no argument. That makes her statement final.

Ezekiel’s eyes go wide and he ducks his head to hide his blush and mercifully goes back to eating, because Vanya’s brain has _finally_ caught up with what she just said.

 

* * *

 

She called them _her_ kids, Vanya thinks. And she _meant_ it. She’s twenty four, and too soft and weak and too ordinary to have kids. She barely manages to get by for herself. She is nowhere near what a functioning well adjusted adult should be to have kids. Vanya only manages to stop herself from hyperventilating at the realisation and the _how_ and _when_ and _why_ because she pops in a pill and waits to calm down. It helps. Barely.

She called them her kids, she thinks staring at her messy living room, littered with not just Ezekiel’s things, but with things from her other students too. She called them her kids, she thinks, staring the new bookcase installed only weeks back next to its sister bookcase. All crammed with notebooks about them. She called them her kids, she thinks, staring at the photos that have accumulated, that she wasn’t _aware_ had accumulated. Vanya’s tired and pale in all of them, still a small thing. (She has photographs. She actually has _photographs_.) Vanya has photographs of her and her students, and she’s also _smiling_ in most of them.

When did this happen? _How?_

She called them _her kids_ , she thinks looking at Ezekiel fighting with Matthew and Jacob about something, at Ellie, Vanessa, Kiera and Jasmine goading them, at Curtis in the corner scribbling into his notebook, Sonya hovering over his shoulder reading, at Spencer who’s taken over the whole sofa to himself, at Nisha who meets Vanya’s gaze over the chaos looking at her as if to apologise for the pack of idiots. She called these hellions her kids, and she meant every single word of it.

And yeah, Vanya thinks, fondness and warmth and things she can’t put a name too, not yet, not so soon, winning out over the freak out, at the feeling of something old that had festered and scarred over being torn open and healing again, at the way something like ancient concertos settle into her bones, _these are her kids_.

And for the first time in her life, at twenty four, half broke and overworked and living on very little sleep and anxiety meds and too much tea and coffee and maybe only now some healthy food, Vanya thinks she may actually be _happy_.

 

* * *

 

 

Vanya is Seven – ordinary. And Vanya is soft and weak, and twenty four and insomniac and anxiety ridden. And Vanya is Third Chair at the Icarus Orchestra. And Vanya is a music teacher for too many hellion teenagers who have invaded her life.

But most importantly, Vanya is _happy_.


End file.
